The Hidden Dance

by Susan Wooldridge

  Her ladyship was very still. She put out a hand to her bedside table, found a lorgnette and, bringing it carefully to her face, stared down at the photograph of the little boy in a cowboy hat.

  The noise level in the third-class general room was deafening. The master of ceremonies, a very harassed and hoarse purser, was resorting to the use of a large gong as a means of getting attention.

  ‘And now, ladies and gentlemen, the winners.’

  An uncertain hush fell.

  On the little stage stood an awkward row of wiggling children, these, the finalists, gazed on by anxious parents and friends, bursting with pride. But Lily only had eyes for Nickie and Anthea, standing at one end of the line, holding hands but pretending not to.

  ‘They’d better get a place at least,’ muttered Johnnie. ‘I’ve got half a crown each way on our two. And a tanner on the Chinese mandarin.’

  The gong sounded. ‘And in third position is James for his very life-like Mr Charlie Chaplin.’

  A storm of applause.

  ‘Well, I don’t think it matters either way.’ Lily nudged Mrs Webb. ‘Just see how much happier Anthea looks.’

  But Mrs Webb couldn’t see anything. She sat in a huddle with her hands clamped over her eyes. ‘I can’t look. The suspense is killing me.’

  ‘And the second prize goes to – wait for it…’

  A half-hush descended.

  ‘The two clowns, Nickie and Anthea!’

  They were all on their feet.

  ‘And that,’ announced Johnnie, ‘is a very tidy ten bob. Thank you very much, ladies, for your sterling work in assembling such splendid costumes.’ He solemnly shook them both by the hand. ‘I think this calls for a celebration. I’m going to splash out my winnings and treat us all to a glass of beer.’

  Off he headed into the crowd leaving Lily and Nellie, with not a word to be said, both beaming with pride and happiness.

  On the other side of the huge room, a little figure was jumping up and down.

  Young Freddie in a far doorway, with a hundred people or so between him and his family, was trying to attract their attention and going mad with frustration. Having found the family’s cabin empty, he’d at last tracked down his gran, here. He could see her, over the other side of the room. Sat up on a table with the posh woman. But he couldn’t get to her. Nobody would let him through.

  He stood on the edge of the fancy-dress room and re-thought his plan. I’ll go round t’other side.

  Off he set once more down the corridor, turning right and right again. And became completely lost; he didn’t recognise anything. He stood turning every which way, the sounds of the fancy dress far, far away. But he was determined; he was on a mission. It was a matter of life and death, Billy had found the ‘swag’ and he had to be rescued. Freddie was the man to do it.

  Trying not to despair, he started back the way he’d come. Then – blow me! – there he was walking along behind the old Timms biddy and an officer. And all three of them seemed to be heading for the fancy-dress room together.

  Don’t panic – keep your distance, Freddie thought. He’d read about jungle-stalking in The Ranger.

  He tucked in behind a young couple, their arms all round each other, and dodging about behind them, managed to keep his prey in sight. Then, to his horror, his ‘hiding-place’ stopped in the middle of the corridor and began kissing.

  Disgusted, Freddie stepped away and nearly found himself tumbling into Miss Timms and the officer, who were now hovering in the doorway of the fancy-dress room. Freddie ducked back behind the kissing couple and watched.

  The old biddy was stretching up on her tiptoes and searching the horizon. What’s she looking for? And for no reason he rightly knew, Freddie felt fear in his heart. He stood very still.

  The officer asked, ‘Any luck, mum?’ Whereupon the woman let out a long low moan and, so strange was the sound, everybody nearby turned and looked.

  The moan turned into a strangled sob. ‘Yes! That’s the woman. There! There! In brown…’ She was jabbing and pointing, and then her body went all stiff and trembly. ‘There’s the child! I can’t believe it! There’s the child!’ she managed to cry.

  ‘Which one?’ the officer asked.

  It was when she answered, ‘The one dressed like a clown, next to the fat woman,’ that Freddie knew something was really wrong. He couldn’t see anything but he knew, just knew, it had to be his gran and Anthea. Through fright and confusion, he heard the officer say, ‘Thank you, ma’am, I can take it from here.’

  It was too much; he couldn’t take any more. He had to find out what was happening, to see what danger was about to befall his family. He pushed and shoved his way into the room, but all around it was too dark to see amongst the people. He ducked down onto all fours and peered through trousers and skirts. By the nearest wall, he saw the legs of a table. ‘Oi! Watch it, young man! Less of a rough-house.’ Ignoring a clutching hand, he scrambled through, his life depending on it; he had to save his family.

  He pulled himself up onto the table, cups and saucers spilling off, and frantically looked around, his head swivelling left and right. And with so much relief he nearly fell off, he saw Mr Valley pouring beer at the next table.

  ‘Mr Valley, Mr Valley!’ he called with all his might. But the man didn’t seem to hear for he picked up his glasses of beer and, moving away, disappeared back into the crowd.

  ‘Look, Gran, we won a yo-yo. One each!’

  ‘Mummy, Mummy, we came second!’

  ‘Excuse me, madam, I wonder if you and your child would come with me?’

  At the sound of this new voice, Nellie spun round and saw Mrs Valley hesitate and then stand upright. She appeared to be smiling at the man at their side. It was a very serious-looking petty officer.

  Half questioningly, Mrs Valley said, ‘Certainly, Officer, I hope there’s no trouble?’ Nellie heard the woman’s voice sounded quite firm.

  ‘We have been asked to follow up certain inquiries. It’s been suggested that you may be able to help.’

  ‘But my husband isn’t here at the moment—’ Mrs Valley was looking around.

  ‘His presence won’t be necessary, madam. It’s just a few routine questions. Perhaps not here?’ Heads were beginning to turn in interest.

  Mrs Valley ducked down and quietly said to Nickie, ‘Be brave, darling.’

  She stood back up and the two women exchanged the briefest look, Nellie giving what she hoped was a nod of encouragement. Mrs Valley took the child’s hand.

  ‘Madam?’ The petty officer held out his arm and signalled the way for mother and child to follow.

  ‘Of course. Um, Mrs Webb, would you be so kind as to tell my husband?’ Again the woman sounded quite calm.

  Nellie nodded. She put a reassuring hand on the woman’s arm and stood helpless as the little group disappeared into the crowd.

  Later she would remember that, for all her seeming calm, Mrs Valley was shaking like a leaf.

  Lady Lavinia Slocombe had made the extremely unwise choice of Schiaparelli pink. Under cover of various documents, Captain Henshaw was surveying her carefully and, it must be said, with no little fascination, as she sat across the wide desk from him.

  There was no doubt that the colour was far too bright but he was aware that her ladyship was mistakenly convinced of its youth-giving properties. What is more, she had chosen the colour not only for her three-quarter length coat with its standing collar of shaved lamb but also for her snugly-fitting cloche hat, which, no doubt, she hoped enhanced the face it framed. This morning, he thought, it resembles an old white-washed wall with all its pits and pocks, not helped by that gash of purple lipstick. Lady Slocombe was dressed to kill. She was in an especially buoyant mood and thoroughly enjoying her own conversation. Captain Henshaw was finding the interview very wearying, the Schiaparelli pink and the purple lipstick, as a colour combination, heavily jarring on the eye.

  ‘It would have been 1922. After that my dear husband, Sir Charte
ris,’ the woman flagged up the name with all the delicacy of a pirate prince unfurling the skull and crossbones, ‘never considered travelling with any other line. Indeed, he has become one of its major shareholders, such is the faith he puts in Silver Star.’ She paused briefly to allow the full monetary implication of her presence to sink in. ‘Which is why I knew I could turn to you, Captain, at our little tête à tête this morning and share this – not to put too fine a point on it – this particular burden.’ She paused once more.

  The captain placed his elbows on his desk and rested his chin on his clasped hands, his expression impenetrable. He glanced down once again at the sheet of newspaper before him and looked at the picture of the little boy.

  He’d hoped to keep the ‘tête à tête’ to a bare minimum having decided to dismiss the ‘theft’ of Lady Slocombe’s bracelet as a most unfortunate mishap. He had, however, been out-manoeuvred by her ladyship, who had sailed into his office, her maid in her wake, and docked across the desk from him. ‘I have a matter of grave importance to discuss with you, Captain.’

  The woman had then launched into a lurid tale of child abandonment and, having dispatched her maid to identify a possible suspect, from the moment of her arrival twenty minutes earlier, had barely drawn breath. The matter of the unfortunate bracelet remained unmentioned.

  ‘I have always believed discretion to be the better part of valour and, although it saddens me to say I may actually know the perpetrator of this particular crime – terribly upsetting when one is so fearful for the safety of an innocent child.’ A lace handkerchief appeared from the cuff of her glove accompanied by a tremulous intake of breath. ‘I have decided not to take the matter into my own hands but to lay all before you as our captain.’ So saying, she drenched him with a dazzling smile.

  Much to Captain Henshaw’s relief, at that moment there was a sharp tap at the door. It was opened from outside by a member of the crew to reveal Miss Timms hovering in the doorway in some agitation.

  ‘Ah, Timms!’ said Lady Slocombe excitedly, who, upon turning back to the captain, asked with sweet and unexpected deference, ‘May my maid join us once again, Captain?’

  He waved the woman into the office but before he could say anything, her mistress snapped, ‘Well?’

  ‘She is on her way with the officer, I believe, your ladyship. And there is a further development.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘The boy appears to be with her. The officer will be bringing him as well. I was sent on ahead. They were attending a fancy-dress parade—’ Miss Timms giddily shared this information but, such was her eagerness, she found her breath out-ran her and she couldn’t continue.

  ‘I knew it!’ cried Lady Slocombe, clapping her hands like an excited child. ‘She has abducted the boy!’

  Fearing the two women’s excitement was about to spiral out of control, the captain spoke up in a calm and even voice. ‘In that case, your ladyship, may I suggest we have some coffee whilst we await the arrival of the party?’

  • • •

  Lily quietly followed Petty Officer Staps, the little clown at her side. They didn’t speak but tightly held hands, both terrified.

  Her mind chaotic with fear, Lily prayed that the walk from third to first class would calm her so that she could be mentally clear and alert for the unknown encounter ahead. For the second time that morning she arrived at the electric service lift, her mood so different to the optimism she had felt for her encounter with Nurse Grossman.

  She looked down and asked as brightly as she could, ‘All right, Nickie darling?’ The little pointed hat barely moved.

  Along the corridor, two maids appeared balancing high towers of towels. ‘Good morning, Mr Staps.’ There was a spiral of laughter and a dimply pink face appeared atop the pile of towelling. They all stood as a group in front of the lift.

  ‘’Morning, Florence, ’morning, Mabel.’ The young man, all formality.

  A shared look between the girls and then one of them winked a cornflower-blue eye.

  ‘Stop it, Florence.’ The young man’s voice was serious. ‘I’m on Captain’s duty.’

  ‘Oh!’ said Florence, high spirits unquenched, and, leaning against him, she chucked a jaunty nudge of the hips. Towels tumbled.

  In the ensuing disorder, Lily dropped to tie the little shoe. ‘Not one word, darling. Remember.’

  Mrs Webb was play-acting though she’d never been more deadly earnest in all her born days. As she had listened to Freddie’s garbled tale, she had realised at once, if she could get Billy Bottle out of the cabin with the ‘swag’, it might be the very thing to distract the captain from Mrs Valley.

  She had rushed from the general room and, falling upon a passing steward, thrown herself at his mercy. ‘…And then, Officer, I lock th’ door of me cabin, not thinking, like, go for a walk and cack-handedly drop me key over t’side.’

  Urging the steward towards Miss Timms’ cabin, the minutes ticking away, Mrs Webb cajoled the poor man for all she was worth. And such was her desperation, her performance enriched by the tension of the morning, she even managed to convince herself. Which probably accounted for the unexpected tears, the arrival of which finally persuaded the dubious steward.

  Standing outside Timms’ cabin door, Mrs Webb’s tears trickling, he slowly started to sort through his keys on a ring which he unclipped, with care, from his belt. Mrs Webb sneaked a look at her watch. Eighteen minutes since Mrs Valley had been taken away. She let out a fresh wail.

  ‘Now, now, missus, don’t take on so.’ The steward appeared to fractionally hasten his efforts and at last the cabin door swung wide. No doubt concerned that further tears might appear, the man all but pushed Nellie inside and swiftly left her to it.

  ‘Billy Bottle, you get upstairs as quick as yer legs can carry yer!’

  The bellboy needed no such urging. With the OXO tin under his arm, he streaked from Miss Timms’ cabin. Nellie sagged, emotionally exhausted, onto the untidy bunk-bed.

  As the minutes ticked by in the captain’s suite, the increasing tension was such that Lady Slocombe ceased to talk altogether. She had drawn off one glove and was making her presence felt by drumming a set of manicured fingernails upon the desk. It was the only sound in the room. A cup of coffee sat untouched in front of her. Timms stood silently to attention at her side, rigid with anticipation.

  In the far corner of the room, the captain, having excused himself from further conversation, was taking advantage of the lull and checking through a cargo manifest with First Officer Hodder.

  Since the captain’s cocktail party four days earlier, when he had met Lady Slocombe for the very first time, Henshaw had attempted to avoid the woman, having found her tiresome and opinionated. He had been surprised, for he knew her good-humoured husband well and had only continued to invite her ladyship to his dinner table out of a fondness for Sir Charteris. The two men had enjoyed many an Atlantic crossing together, each respecting the other as having made an upward journey through life’s many hazards. Now Captain Henshaw realised why Sir Charteris always travelled alone. In so doing, the man spared himself the undiluted challenge of his wife’s conversation, leaving others, not so well prepared, to make the discovery for themselves.

  Casting his eye down the cargo manifest, all Captain Henshaw wanted more than life was to be left in peace to enjoy the final chapters of his Walter Scott with a nice glass of malt whisky.

  The electric lift deposited the little party on B deck. They climbed the great sweeping staircase to level A and followed Petty Officer Staps out through a swing door into the open air. A blast of freezing March wind and an arc of fizzing spray made Lily gasp out loud.

  ‘Sorry, ma’am, nearly there.’

  Even in her state of terror Lily looked about amazed; the ocean was so much further away than what she had become used to in third class.

  Suddenly, there was a twanging ring behind them. She jumped and turned to see a clay pigeon released into the air. A shot was fired true an
d a small burst of clay fireworked against the smoky sky.

  ‘Clay pigeon shoot,’ said young Staps nonchalantly. ‘Now then, this way.’ They followed him carefully along the slippery deck. ‘In there’s a Palm Court Orchestra and over there, that’s what they call the Verandah Café, where you’ll find an ice cream soda fountain.’ An affable young man, Petty Officer Staps was taking great pride in affording these two a glimpse of the high life. Lily was torn between courteously acknowledging her guide and carefully averting her face for fear of being recognised by a strolling passenger.

  ‘Oh my! You should be in a magazine,’ declared an American voice. Lily spun round.

  Behind them stood a young woman holding up a camera. ‘Aren’t you the darlingest thing.’ There was the sturdy click of a shutter closing and the woman dropped to the child’s level.

  ‘May I take a couple of photographs?’

  Aware that Petty Officer Staps was watching intently, Lily bent and gathered the child into her. (Please, please, darling, don’t say anything, she prayed.) Straightening up, she looked the young woman in the eye. ‘That would be such fun but not today, thank you.’ Her voice sounded strangely light but at least it hadn’t wavered.

  ‘Excuse me, ma’am, I didn’t mean to startle you.’ The American woman briefly rested a hand on Lily’s arm. ‘It’s just your kid looked such a honey, I wanted to capture the image. Forgive me for troubling you.’ She gave Lily a warm smile and walked away along the deck.

  ‘Mrs Valley?’ Staps discreetly cleared his throat. ‘The captain will be waiting.’ He unclipped a rope from which hung a sign declaring ‘No Entry’, and herded them up a gangway. ‘Captain’s quarters, this way. Further along’s the bridge.’

  They ducked through a door into a lino-clad corridor, mercifully out of the winds. Lily stood numb, her eyes streaming, her ears ringing. Was it fear or cold? She didn’t know and she didn’t care, for up ahead stood the door with a sign saying ‘Captain’.

  ‘Here we are,’ said Officer Staps cheerfully and knocked.

  The three of them stood huddled in the doorway before a firm voice called out, ‘Come.’ Officer Staps opened the door and held it for the mother and child.